


sara

by PaintedVanilla



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Cats, M/M, Married Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 10:54:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16911597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaintedVanilla/pseuds/PaintedVanilla
Summary: House does not like Sara. Sara does not like House.





	sara

House has a difficult relationship with Sara.

House does not like Sara. Sara does not like House. He can admit, that if Sara made an _effort_ with him, he might be able to like her, and that’s a lot, coming from him. He even made an effort with her, as ridiculous as it seemed, but he arrived home one night before Wilson with an offering. A bag of the _nice stuff_ which he had bought for her, feeling stupid as he did it, and brought home for her and presented to her, thankful that no one could hear their one-sided conversation.

Sara had accepted his offering and House had buried the empty bag in the trash. When Wilson arrived home an hour later to find that she was sitting on the arm of the couch, almost completely passed out, purring loudly, and letting House _pet her,_ he stopped in the doorway and just watched for several seconds.

“What did you do?” He asked, finally.

“Nothing.” House lies, hoping Wilson won’t recognize the effects of catnip, “She’s just warming up to me.”

Wilson had liked that response. House had to admit the idea of Sara liking House as much as she liked Wilson, maybe more, was an appealing one. Sara stayed next to him on the couch for the rest of the evening, never ceasing to purr, and never getting mad at him for the petting. She never let him pet her; House would always tell himself that he didn’t care whether or not Wilson’s cat wanted him to pet her, but he had to admit that her fur was soft and her purring was a nice sound. It was nice to have her there next to him, not glaring, not hissing, just purring.

House had believed that they had called a truce. She would stop screaming at him every time he got up to do something, and he would stop trying to nudge her off the bed from where she slept at Wilson’s feet. The catnip had been a worthy peace offering; drugs can do that to anyone, even a cat as stubborn as Sara. This was good, in House’s book. It would make Wilson happy - always a plus - and would probably decrease the amount of scratches House received on a day to day basis. He even had a bit in mind he wanted to propose to Sara - as well as you can propose a bit to a cat. But he would not be opposed to letting her sit in his lap, so long as she held still and looked angry and let him pet her like he was some kind of super villain. He found the idea amusing; he was sure Wilson would, too.

However, the next morning, when House walked out of the bedroom, Sara launched herself out of the bed and went careening after him. She lunged for his cane, first, and when she missed that, went for his leg, and when she only managed to dig her claws into the fabric of her pajama pants, she flailed, struggling to pull herself away, then flipped over and darted to the other end of the hallway. She landed at Wilson’s feet, where he had just rounded the corner, and she turned and hissed loudly at House, before rushing off to hide under the couch.

Wilson looks from where she had just disappeared under the furniture, to House, who was frowning, “So much for warming up to you.”

House didn’t respond; so much for warming up to him, indeed. He bought her the _good stuff,_ she should _love him._ She only wants him for the drugs.

House won’t say any of that out loud, though. He doesn’t need the approval of a cat. He doesn’t need the approval of anyone.

“Stop it.” Wilson says that night, while they’re laying in bed in the dark.

“Stop what?” House asks, playing dumb.

“Stop trying to push Sara off the bed.” Wilson says, “She’s just going to hate you more.”

“I don’t care if your cat hates me.” House says.

He waits five minutes and tries to nudge her again; Wilson kicks his good leg.

Sara has staked her claim on Wilson and his affections several times, and she taunts House about it. She sits in his lap, facing him, just to glare at him.

“She’s not glaring at you.” Wilson tells him when House shares his theory, “She’s sitting here purring as loud as can be. Her eyes are half closed because she’s relaxed.”

House doesn’t break eye contact with Sara, “She’s mocking me.”

“I thought you didn’t care whether or not my cat liked you?” Wilson asks.

“I don’t care if she likes me.” House says, “But I don’t want to be mocked.”

“She’s _sleepy.”_ Wilson insists.

“She thinks she’s winning.” House says, “She thinks you love her more than you love me.”

“So what if I do?” Wilson asks.

House gives him a look, “So now I have to compete with a cat for your affection?”

“You’re the only one here with a limited amount of affection to dole out.” Wilson tells him, “I love Sara. I love you. I can multitask.”


End file.
